Spits' Story
by R.M. Hunter
Summary: Wind Cycler was born mute as the only child to her poverty-stricken mother and father. Both parents viewed her as more than just a child, but as perhaps their hope for a better life.
1. Chapter 1: The Mute One

**RM: Hey everybody! This is my first attempt at writing a full-length My Little Pony fanfiction story! Hopefully you all enjoy it, hopefully I don't run into writer's block, and hopefully I get some good feedback on this. It'd help me as a writer and may give you a warm fuzzy feeling inside, I dunno. But if you've got the time, why not write a short review, or just drop a comment? I'd be very appreciative.**

 **Anyway, first chapter!**

* * *

 _Dearest Mom and Daddy,_

 _Finally, after these three long months since I came to Des Manes, I think I may have found a well-paying job. After applying to Des Manes' first responder team, I stumbled across a pony named Meson Bolt, an old classmate of mine from Junior Speedsters' flight camp. You may remember him from my graduation; he was the orange and green pegasus pony with whom we conversed after the ceremony._

 _After explaining my current predicament, Meson has generously invited me to stay with him in his suite, thereby relieving me of my room and board bill. He has also promised to put in a good word for me to the first responder team. Hopefully with his regards they will take my application seriously, as all other labor that I have been applying for have been quite disdainful towards me._

 _If I do indeed get the job I will have to be working nights, as my day job covers most of my schedule. I realize that the extra work will indeed be exhausting, and I may not be able to pen letters to you as often as I would like. However, the money I make will be coming in at a quite increased rate._

 _How is Mom's therapy going? I trust she is in good health. The latest letter that I received did not bring good news, but times have changed, and hopefully fate has been kind to her. I do hope that Daddy is getting enough rest. Please Daddy, do not work yourself too hard to lighten the load that I am bearing._

 _It has been so very long since I have received any word from you. I am forced to assume that the replies to my three previous letters were lost in the mail. I do so wish that I could hear from you again. But if for whatever reason I do not receive any more replies, I will still be penning these letters to you to let you know that I am indeed doing well._

 _I pray that you are doing well also._

 _Your faithful daughter,_

 _Wind "Spits" Cycler_

* * *

"Whaddup, egghead?" greeted a friendly voice. The orange-coated pegasus looked up, mildly surprised.

"Egghead?" he echoed, his face spreading into a large grin. "Says the pony who's borrowing four books at one time."

"You're not really in a position to talk to me like that, are you? You know, considering you actually work in this library?" the other pegasus shot back, smiling as well.

"I'm just as much a member of the rescue team as you are. I may not be as good a flyer, or a cloud buster, but at least my parents didn't name me Underhoof."

"It's Thunderhoof, and it's an awesome name!" Thunderhoof defended himself. "Not something egghead-y like Meson Bolt. What does that even mean?"

"Read some books and find out," Meson retorted, finishing his letter and sealing it. "Besides, you can't even come up with a proper insult other than 'egghead'."

Thunderhoof was at a loss of words for a second, before shrugging and mumbling, "Touche." He tossed a glance at the letter Meson was sealing. "Say, what's that? Writing to the love of your life?"

"If I were a mare and Captain Uber Pferde weren't married, then I would be," the pegasus replied, getting up and heading towards the exit.

"Captain Ferdie? Why would you be writing to him?" Thunderhoof pressed, following. "Fan mail? Ahh… your resignation? Asking for more coffee in the mornings?"

Royally annoyed, Meson sighed and gave Thunderhoof a deadpan look. "Well, if you must know, I'm recommending Wind Cycler to the team. She's going through financial stuff with her parents, so I let her move in with me. And I figured I'd put in a good word for her to the captain so she can get the job."

"Wind Cycler? The mute one? Really?" Thunderhoof said in disbelief, before bursting out in spontaneous laughter. "Now that, my friend, is how you crack a good joke! I'm surprised that you could keep a straight face!"

"I'm not kidding, I'm serious," Meson retorted, keeping his deadpan look. Thunderhoof quickly stopped laughing and looked up.

"You're serious? But… but why in Equestria would you let that… lame excuse for a pegasus into your own home?" Thunderhoof pressed, following Meson outside.

"She's not a lame excuse for a pony just because she can't speak," he replied seriously.

"Granted, but how in the world is she gonna communicate with us quickly enough to be useful on the team? She can't speak, or yell, or… I dunno, is she gonna use hoof signals?"

"Maybe, I'm not sure."

"You're not sure? And you're recommending her to Captain Ferde? The one they call Superpony?" Thunderhoof grabbed Meson's shoulders and shook him, as if to break some sort of spell. "Are you crazy?!"

Meson nearly punched Thunderhoof due to reflex action, but held himself back, clutching the letter tightly. He paused for a second, then looked at Thunderhoof in the eyes and replied, "I might be."

Thunderhoof stood shocked for a second as his friend shrugged him off and headed down the street. Snapping out of it after a second, he shook his head and muttered, "Egghead…"


	2. Chapter 2: Two-Week Trial

Captain Uber Pferde grunted as he started reading the lines of Wind Cycler's application. Smirking at almost every line that he read, he looked up at Wind Cycler and said in his thick accent, "You've only worked once before, as a weather pony, no?"

Wind Cycler nodded her head.

Captain Ferdie grunted at her answer as he leaned back in his chair. "We already have a good weather pony on the team: Meson Bolt."

"Well sir, I may be good with clouds, sir, but Wind Cycler here is really, really good with wind," Meson cut in. "She's the main wind pony for the weather team she's on, and she's in charge of cycling the clouds from the weather factory. I've seen her work, sir, and she's pretty impressive."

"And why would I need a wind manipulator on my team?" the captain pressed.

"She... ahh... um..." Meson fumbled, looking at Wind Cycler, who was making hoof motions. "You can... ah... you can... fly, through... ah..."

Wind Cycler nodded her head expressively, flapping her wings and pointing to the captain's desk fan.

"You can fly through wind?" Meson guessed, and received a nod. "Oh, right, yes, sir... she can fly straight through strong wind currents exceptionally well. I should know, sir... I was her wingpony at flight camp. One of the strongest flyers right here, even more so than myself, sir."

The captain gave Meson a suspicious look and grunted again. "I see. Well we do need strong flyers," he replied, shifting his gaze onto Wind Cycler. "First responder ponies are no _schwachlinge_ , no weaklings. If you mess up, we can lose lives. You realize how important this job is?"

Wind Cycler nodded, looking at Meson.

"You'll also have to communicate quickly," Captain Ferdie continued. "I don't know how you plan to do that - perhaps by using your hoof signals or flapping your wings - but you will have to. However, I'm a decent pony, so I won't turn you away just because you're mute." He stood up, somehow seemingly looking at both of the ponies at the same time. "You get a two-week trial. If you pass, you get the job. But you will have to learn to communicate quickly and efficiently before we can let you on. Is that understood?"

Again Wind Cycler nodded.

"Very well. Meson Bolt, since you seem to understand her better, and since you asked me oh so nicely for this interview, you get to be her wingpony."

"Yes sir... ah... what about Thunderhoof?" Meson queried. "Is he going to be moved to lead pony of a new temporary squad?"

"I'll have Thunderhoof fly with you to monitor your progress. But remember..." the captain stated, leaning forward. "I cannot stress this enough. Good communication. Ponies' lives may depend on it. _Dismissed!_ "

Meson saluted and the two exited the captain's office, nearly running into Thunderhoof who was just outside.

"I assume you heard everything the captain said?" Meson stated.

"Not really, his door's pretty thick," Thunderhoof replied. "How'd it go?"

"Well Wind Cycler gets the standard two-week trial, with me as her wingpony."

Thunderhoof nearly shouted in joy. "Alrightee!" he exclaimed, laughing. "Lead pony on me!"

"Not really, you're her supervisor. You get to judge whether or not she's good enough for the team."

"Really? I have that much authority?" Thunderhoof pressed, looking at Meson, then at Wind Cycler. "I say she's not good enough. Now get out!" he shouted jokingly. He received a death glare from Wind Cycler.

"Cut it out, Underhoof," Meson spat back at him. "If she turns out to be good but you fail her, Captain Ferdie will have some things to say to you. Very, very strongly, I'm sure."

"Yeah yeah. Well, I gotta go. Got some _real_ friends to hang out with. You two have a great time!" Thunderhoof replied, taking off. Meson looked at Wind Cycler.

"Ehh... sorry about him. He can be a jerk at times," Meson apologized, taking off and making sure she was following.


	3. Chapter 3: First Conversation

**RM: Just as a point of reference, when I use the underline that means that the words were signed, not spoken. Yeah, I didn't want to have to say 'so-n-so signed' every time, so I just went with the easy way and underlined. I know, I'm lazy... umm... hey look, Chapter 3!**

* * *

"Welcome to my cloudominium!" Meson exclaimed as they entered his house. Wind Cycler gave it an appraising look, though it was unclear as to whether she was admiring the room or disdainful of it. The living room was quite cluttered and dimly-lit, as Meson wasn't the tidiest of ponies. "...I know. Sorry it's a grim space, but it's my place."

Wind Cycler nodded, entering the room and looking around, drawn mostly to the fireplace in the center. Slowly she sat down on a couch, removed her saddlebags and scanned the room.

"So, ah... let's see, the bedroom is directly down the hall to your left, and that's where I've set you up. It's kinda cramped in there, just to let you know. Kitchen is on your right, and my 'den' is on the door opposite the way we came in... that's likely where I'll be spending a great deal of time, but you can come to me any time... just knock first, please."

Meson paused and glanced at her with a questioning look in his eyes. "Umm, so, you hungry, or thirsty, or tired, or anything like that?" he asked, to which she shook her head. "Okay then... ah... hmm. I guess you're pretty shy then, right? Considering how you don't... well..." Again Wind Cycler shook her head, looking directly at him.

"No? You're not shy? Well... then, ah... let's see how this is gonna work... um, so what's your preferred method of communication? Hoof signals? Pen and paper?"

Wind Cycler shook her head for a third time, this time opening her bags and pulling out a tiny flute and playing a soft, sweet tune.

"Okay, so you play the flute?" Meson asked, intrigued. "That's pretty cool. So you use that to like express your emotions?"

Yes, she signed with her hooves.

"So flute means emotions, and hoof signs are things like yes, no, and thank you?" Meson guessed. "That's pretty cool! This'll be easy, then."

Perhaps.

"Ah, well, difference of opinion." He paused, thinking, while she continued to play. "So what does this song mean?"

Wind Cycler put the flute down and smiled at him, motioning to her face.

"Cool. I'm happy too... and I'm happy that you're happy here too, Wind Cycler."

Again followed another long pause, until he asked, "So what should I call you? Because, y'know, Wind Cycler is kind of a mouthful... no offense. And I don't think you'd like to be called Wind, so ah... what was that nickname that you had back in flight camp? I know you had one, it was... ah... wasn't it Spits? It was Spits, wasn't it?"

Yes.

"Is it okay if I call you Spits from here on out?"

Yes, please.

"Alright, great... Spits. You can call me Meson. Ah, no wait... um... look, how about you get your things unpacked and I cook something? Because quite honestly, I'm famished. Then we can talk... ah, converse, over dinner, kay?"

Spits nodded slowly, smiled at Meson, and then grabbed her bags and took them upstairs. Sighing to himself, Meson headed to the kitchen, scratching his head.

 _"Sweet Celestia, what am I getting myself into?"_ he wondered to himself.

* * *

Meson and Spits sat on opposite sides of the tiny round table, slowly eating away at the still-warm plate of muffins. For several minutes they hadn't conversed in the slightest, with Meson still unsure of what to do. Finally he set his plate aside and focused on her.

"So, ah... what can you tell me about yourself?" he asked hopefully.

Not much, she signed in return, setting her plate aside also. Pen and paper please?

"Oh, um... right, here," he stammered, quickly retrieving a quill and parchment. Being a writer he always had writing materials within arm's reach.

Spits quickly began to write something out on the paper. In a few moments she showed him the sheet.

 _"I'm from a small town near Baltimare. Where are you from?"_

"I'm from right here in Des Manes," Meson replied, fascinated at her writing speed. "Well, not from right here, but from around this area. Good penmanship, by the way, you'd make a good writer."

 _"Do you like to read a lot of books?"_ was her particularly well-written reply that came with a smile.

"Yes, I work in a library. When I'm not shelving books, I read documentaries on Starswirl the Bearded, sometimes a Daring Do book or two, and my favorite series, Commanders of Equestria," he answered. "I also write books, though only a couple have been published."

 _"I would like to read them sometime. You seem to have a very good vocabulary."_

"Ah, gee, thanks, you too. Maybe sometime during my free time I could take you up to the library?"

 _"I would enjoy that very much."_

"Alright, well my next free time would be next Saturday. I'm working full-time at the library and doing half-shifts at night for the responder team. Which, if I believe so, coincides with your schedule, doesn't it?"

 _"I work part-time on the weather team during the day."_

"Huh, so we do have pretty good schedules. Who knew?" he chuckled, bringing a smile to her face. "Well, I gotta get some sleep whilst I can; work day tomorrow. You'd better catch some shut-eye as well."

 _"I shall."_

"Alright, well... um... g'night then, Spits," Meson replied, staring for an awkward moment before getting up and taking the plates to the counter. "I'll do these later, got something on my mind and I have to write," he said, hurrying off to his den.

Spits slowly got up, sighing on the inside, and headed to the bedroom. Like he had said previously, it was cramped, but still tidy. Her bags were still packed for the most part. Digging through them, she produced another sheet of parchment and a pen, then sat down at the small desk.

For a few minutes she simply stared at the empty sheet of paper, completely lost in thought, before slowly her eyes began to droop. Once her forehead hit the desk she sat up immediately, shook the haze out of her head, and began to write.


	4. Chapter 4: Pen Pals?

_Dear Meson Bolt,_

 _Receiving a letter from somepony inside your own house may seem slightly strange at first, but I assure you, this is nothing new to me. Since neither of us will be able to converse much during the day, I suggest we write letters such as this to each other during our free time. By analyzing our schedules, I have determined that you visit your house at least once a day for lunch, while I get off work in the afternoon. I perceive that it would be best for me to send one letter in the morning, and for you to write a reply during your lunch period._

 _At this time I would like to raise up some concerns that I have developed over the past few hours spent with you. I kindly ask you to at the very least make an effort to learn enough hoof sign language in order that I will not have to write out my thoughts as often as we converse, as such a process is lengthy. You will find that I can converse quite fluently with hoof signs, however only very few can fully understand me._

 _Secondly, I would like to request some literature for the bedroom that I am residing in. As I will be alone at home for a good portion of the afternoon, I will need literature to feed and restore my mind and soul. I would like to request a volume of an adventure series genre, however I will not be picky. I'm sure as a writer you understand my need._

 _Finally, I respectfully request that any mail that should be received and is addressed specifically to Wind Cycler to be promptly brought to me, unopened, and that I have full privacy whilst reading it._

 _Please consider my requests and reply in letter form at the time most convenient to you. Thank you._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Wind "Spits" Cycler_

* * *

Spits stirred slowly, rolling over in bed for the n-th time and curling up to get comfortable in her new position. She had been trying for the past four or so hours to get as much sleep as possible during the afternoon, but her thoughts kept stealing her mind away.

Only two weeks. Two weeks to prove that a mute pony can perform under stress and in dangerous situations just as well as ponies who could speak. And not proving to just anyone; she had to impress a pony who already had some personal bias towards her. A wave of nausea swept over her as she realized how short of a time fourteen days actually was.

Slowly her thoughts drifted back to her home near Baltimare. She heard a young mare's silent cries-her cries-as her work-weary father sat down next to her. Slowly, solemnly, he began to explain to her what cancer was, and why mom needed to be taken away. She saw herself and her father embracing and weeping together. She saw her mom lying limp on the bed, the doctors working furtively to do all they could to keep her alive.

Then she saw her dad waving, a saddened yet hopeful look on his face. The noise of a train's horn filled her ears, while tears filled her eyes as she leaned way out of the compartment window, waving back to him.

Again Spits turned over in the bed, finally reaching a cozy position and starting to drift off. But as fate would have it, the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut informed her that she would get no sleep this afternoon.

"Spits?" called out Meson Bolt's voice.

The mute pony sat up, rubbed her tired eyes, and threw the covers aside as she climbed out of bed. Grabbing her flute on the way out, she closed the bedroom door behind her and blew out a note to let him know she was indeed awake.

"Hey, uh, I got your letter," Meson informed her, producing a second piece of parchment from his bags. "Didn't see it till I was on my way out. I, uh... well I wrote you a reply while I was at work, seeing as you seem serious about this pen pal thing."

Spits nodded and took the letter that he handed to her, tucking it under her wing to read for later.

"I also brought you these, like you requested," Meson added, handing her two thick books. "Ever read Daring Do?"

No, she signed, looking quizzically at the book covers.

"Well the series is pretty awesome... you said you wanted adventure genre; these books are filled with action. One of my personal favorite series." He paused, staring at her for a moment before saying, "I also, uh... got myself a book, on hoof signs, so we can chat easier."

Thank you, that will help.

No problem, he signed in return, smiling. "Well we'd better get ready for, ah... for tonight. I think I've got some muffins in the kitchen pantry, could you go see if there are any leftov-"

He was cut off by a rather loud knock at his door. "Hmm, wonder who that could be?" he muttered to himself, setting his bags down and turning to answer the door. It was Thunderhoof.

"Guys... you gotta... the captain..." He wheezed and panted, having obviously flown quickly and for a long distance. "Fire... right now... downtown..."

"Say no more," Meson nodded, and turning his head around, he called, "Spits, let's move!"


	5. Chapter 5: Ground Rules

**RM: I apologize for the delayed update as I've been rather busy lately with my job hunt. I also ran into a bit of writer's block that lasted for nearly two days, but was able to gather my thoughts and continue the story. Time will tell if my writing has been affected at all. I'd very much appreciate it if you would drop a review or two if you have the time.**

 **Anyway, enough of my talk, fifth chapter!**

* * *

Meson Bolt dropped down on the roof of one of the buildings, directly next to one large structure that was going up in flames. Captain Pferde was hastily issuing orders to other members of the responder team who were just now showing up.

"What's the situation, cap?" Meson asked as the squad gathered around their leader.

"That's a hotel that's burning down, and there are still ponies inside, most of them on the third and fourth floors," the captain explained hastily. "Straightshot, Minutemare, suit up and go inside; you're working rescue. Meson, I want you up above the building forming clouds to dump rain on those flames. Silverheart, set up a medical outpost a good distance from here and tend the injured ponies. I'll control traffic and make sure you boys get some support up there. Move!"

The squad quickly dispersed, heading to fulfill their orders, while Captain Ferdie grabbed Spits and pulled her aside. "I've a special mission for you, Cycler. You know the position of all the rainclouds in this section of Des Manes, no? Fly out and retrieve as many as you can. Hurry!"

Spits nodded quickly, planting her hooves and launching off the rooftop. For a short moment she circled, trying to get her bearings, before speeding off hastily in one direction.

"Follow her, Thunderhoof, I want you to make sure she's competent," was the captain's final order before taking off.

Thunderhoof wheezed, looking up in the direction of where Spits had gone, before struggling to get off the ground and propel himself in that direction.

* * *

It was only a matter of minutes before the exhausted pegasus caught sight of Wind Cycler, who was forming one large cloud out of several small ones in the area. Thunderhoof collapsed onto a chunk of cloud and breathed heavily.

The white pegasus had finished her project quickly and, taking notice of the nearby downed pegasus, dashed over to him. Help me move this cloud, she signed expressively to him. Of course since he didn't know hoof sign language he didn't pay her much mind, which apparently annoyed her. Placing her hooves carefully on her flute, she blew hard into the highest note to make him get up.

"I know... I know... I'm coming..." he growled, obviously struggling to get airborne. "Just get the cloud moving already." Spits gave him a disdainful look before rushing back over to her massive cloud.

With forceful wingbeats she started the cloud in one direction, steering it left and right with small air currents. Thunderhoof brought up the rear, barely able to keep up with the slow-moving mass.

It wasn't long before he started to falter, losing altitude quickly as his wings felt as though they were burning up. "Just keep going, Wind!" he called out wearily to her as he started his descent. Spits whipped her head back and, not taking note of the shortage of time, rushed down and grabbed him before he fell too far, lifting him back up towards the cloud.

"No, no, just go!" he shouted at her, although she didn't seem to be listening. Spits very forcefully moved Thunderhoof's hooves around her neck, carrying him on her back while moving the cloud along. The extra weight slowed her considerably, but she pressed on.

* * *

It wasn't long before they made it back to the building, which had all but burned to the ground. With a worried look on her face, Spits landed on the rooftop base, tossing concerned looks at the obviously dejected members of the flight team. Setting Thunderhoof down, she ran over to Meson and signed, What happened?

"The fire... kept melting my clouds..." he started to explain, panting. "Couldn't... get them big enough. Where were you? We were counting on you?"

"Wind Cycler, front and center!" came the captain's harsh and angry voice. Spits nearly jumped up, startled, and briskly trotted over to him, standing at attention. Captain Pferde stood towering over her and looked her square in the eye.

"Let me set a ground rule, Wind Cycler," the captain growled. "When I give you orders, I expect them to be followed to a T, no exceptions, ever. Tell me, what orders did I give to you?"

Cowering in front of him, Spits shut her eyes and turned away, unable to answer. This only served to infuriate the captain as he shouted again, "What did I order you to do?"

As if shouting wasn't enough to scare a pony into looking like a startled deer already, Spits shook her head again, unable to answer. The captain then realized that she wasn't able to, clearing his throat sheepishly and saying, "I told you to get retrieve as many clouds as possible, correct?" He received a nod.

"And it was up to you to assume that we were going to use the clouds to put out the fire, correct?" Again Spits nodded.

"Can anypony tell me what happens to a building when it's left on fire for twenty minutes?" the captain asked, looking up to the rest of the team.

"It burns down, sir," Minutemare was quick to answer.

"So if you hadn't taken twenty minutes, we wouldn't have this situation on our hooves, would we?" Spits shook her head, sniffing. "So tell me, what in the wide wide world of Equestria detained you for nearly half an hour?"

The white-coated pegasus looked up, flicking some tears out of her eyes before pointing to Thunderhoof, who was very nearly fainting from exhaustion.

"Let me set another ground rule, then, Cycler," Pferde said, obviously less upset. "When I order you to do something, I mean for you to do it and for you only. The orders of other ponies on this team are no concern of yours. What's more, if you had left him, we would have been able to save the building." He paused, looking up and glaring at Thunderhoof.

"I assume he told you to leave him as well. Ground rule, then. You're the rookie here, Cycler. You follow orders from everypony else, unless they conflict with mine. His didn't, so you should have left him. Understood?"

Spits nodded in understanding, looking at the ground and blinking rapidly.

"Alright then, we're done here. Bolt, go help Silverheart with the wounded ponies. Thunderhoof, you're working the night shift. Cycler... go bust that big cloud of yours back into the little bits, then follow Thunderhoof back to base."

* * *

 **Author's note 8-10-15**

 **Hello dear reader. Sorry I haven't been posting for quite a while, I've been rather busy with a mashup-combination of school, job hunting, and art. I've also experienced heavy writer's block lately, so there's that. I'd just like to let you know that until I finish with my trigonometry course for this summer, I won't be working very much on this story, so don't be expecting another post for a while. That being said, my current schedule predicts that I will finish my trig course in a couple of weeks. So yeah... don't expect another post for perhaps two or more weeks. I'll try to get back in the swing of things then.**

 **Stay frosty,**

 **R.M. Hunter**


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